An experiment in poetry
Thanks to my Doctorate in Ministry in Creative Writing at Pittsburgh Seminary
By Katy Stenta
The story gets more fantastic
The more we tell it
It gets bigger
Even when we make it more concise
The better adjective, the simple adverb
The timing
All of which can be
drilled down
to this thing called perfect
But the human being
Exists outside of perfection
There is no perfect time to be human
There is no perfect relationship
No perfect creation
made by human hands
Humankind works so hard to tell its story
Because maybe if we describe our faith
more perfectly, more people will follow it
Why do we chase perfection?
Why do we want the feeling of
having the exact words
to shape how our experiences exist—
Do we not then pretend that our experiences are
unembodied?
Do we not want to be lost in a fantastic story
precisely because we have struggled too?
Do we not experience our lives as Science Fiction?
Too technical to explain, too human to let go
of our essence.
I think I prefer Science Fiction to Perfection.
